Walk on by
by Soulmate Ficwriter
Summary: Geek, Jock, Princess, Basket-Case, Sweetheart, Rebel... they're all just titles, right? What happens when stereotypes are stripped away? When things get real and true friendships are formed? What happens when the geek falls for the rebel, and vice versa? Is it enough, or will they walk on by? -A multi-chapter birthday fic for harrytwifan.
1. Chapter 1

**Finally… Happy Birthday, Nancy! Yes, this is a very late birthday fic for harrytwifan. It is unbetaed, so pretty please excuse my mistakes. **

**This fic was originally inspired by the movie The Breakfast Club. The song inspirations are **_**Don't You Forget About Me**_** by Simple Minds, and **_**Boom Clap**_** by Charli XCX. You might notice the influence of some other eighties movies from time to time, as well. I meant to write a OS, but that's just not happening. Not too sure how many chapters… however many it takes, I guess. ;-)**

**Disclaimer- I don't own anything Twilight. This is Slash.**

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><p><strong>Ch. 1 - I See You <strong>

_Hey, hey, hey ,hey  
>Ohhh<em>

_Won't you come see about me?  
>I'll be alone, dancing you know it, baby<em>

_Tell me your troubles and doubts  
>giving me everything, inside and out and…<em>

**Edward pov**

How did I get myself into this? Never in my life have I had a lunch or an after-school detention, let alone a fucking Saturday. I'm not sure what I thought would happen. That's just it, I guess. I didn't think for once, and it felt fucking fantastic.

I've had as much as I can stand of listening to my dad's shit about my 'F' in shop, about how disappointed he and my mother are in me. I'm disappointed enough in myself, in my first less than stellar grade. I don't need to be constantly reminded of my failure.

Fuck him. He treats me like shit, anyway. Always has. It's like he doesn't love me; he sure as fuck doesn't know me. He lacks any fraternal instinct toward me, and I can't stand him in return.

I'm used to the line of his verbal bullshit, about how worthless I am, that the only thing I have going for me are my smarts, and if I fuck that up I'll have nothing. I'll be nothing because I am nothing. But in hind sight, I should have known it would eventually escalate into more.

Finally, yesterday… it did.

It's been a long time coming now that I think about it; I've seen that gleam in his eye more and more lately - the one he gets when I just know he wants to hit me so badly he can taste it. I never thought he would, though.

Yesterday morning I'd had enough. I was done listening to his verbal abuse and he knew it. He must've recognized my taller stance or the clench of my jaw. Before I worked up the nerve to actually stand up for myself, he back handed me, hard… really fucking hard, across my left eye. That shit hurt! He caught me with his fat, stubby knuckles or something, because it felt as if he'd punched me with his fist.

By the time I made it to school with a swollen purple shiner and a rather large chip on my shoulder, I was thoroughly soaked to the bone from the downpour that followed me the entire mile walk. First fucking time I've ever missed the bus; let's just say I was raring to go at it, with anyone, like my prick of a shop teacher. Especially with my prick of a shop teacher, because that's exactly what he is, a grade A prick. First, he decided to use my sorry excuse for a bookcase as an example of everything not to do in carpentry. Then, when he insisted I remove my sunglasses, the sunglasses that were hiding something I desperately didn't want anyone to see – Yeah… I kind-of lost it just a little bit. Actually, for me, I lost it allot. I threw that stupid fucking bookcase across the room and told him what I think of him. Everything I think of him. That he's an ignorant asshole who should go fuck himself. That he's disgusting and stupid, along with a few other things. I don't even remember everything that flew out of my mouth just then. The first thing I do remember is running from the school - rather dramatically, I might add. There was no slipping inconspicuously from the building, no sneaking past the front office unseen. I ran screaming and cursing through the halls, across the school yard, into the adjacent woods. I don't know what got into me, but it felt great.

I spent hours in the forest pondering the hell that is my life and how much being a teenager sucks ass. Not that I wouldn't mind sucking someone's ass, one boy's in particular, which is another facet of the hell that is my life. Let's just say Forks isn't the easiest place to be out and proud. Especially not for someone as shy and backward as myself. Although, as ass-backward as I am with most people, I'm that popular if not more amongst my fellow geeks. Go figure! Call me comfortable in my own element or some shit like that; I don't fucking know and I don't pretend to understand. I just am - popular in my own little circle, yet a social outcast to everyone else.

One might think my ridiculed friends would be conscious of other people's feelings and not prejudice, not just plain mean, having suffered through their own fair share of being judged and bullied and shit like that, right? Uh… fuck, no. They are just as unaccepting as the next guy. Which is why I haven't confided in one of my so called friends, not a one, not even my best friend Ben - the undeniable fact that I'm gay. And I have no plans to in the immediate or distant future. I'm fine here in my closet. It's comfy and safe. Lonely, too – suffocatingly so, but still, I can hang out here a little while longer, until I go to college, where I can finally be myself. I'll just have to figure out who _myself_ is when I get there.

During my short sabbatical to the woods, my father's words kept repeating in my head, running on a never ending loop like a broken record. _The only thing you have going for you are your smarts_. _The only thing you have going for you are your smarts._

And it hit me. That's right! I'm fucking brilliant. I have allot going for me as a matter of fact. Soon enough I'll have my scholarship. I'll leave this tiny town and never look back - except to call my parents to gloat as to how well I'm doing from time to time. I can't wait to do exactly that.

"_Hello, mother who never stuck up for me… and dear old asshole of a dad. That's right. I'm a brain surgeon. And no, I won't be home for mother fucking Christmas."_

God, I can be such a hateful son-of-a-bitch sometimes. I wonder who I got that from…

So, I returned to school with every intention of attending last period, but the principal and my parents were awaiting my return. I kept my mouth shut about the real reason my face looks like it does, and my dad kept his mouth shut about me receiving my first detention. We've had some sort of an unspoken truce ever since. Imagine that.

So, here I am on a Saturday morning, making my way to the school library to get this shit done. I'll use the eight hours to study, no problem. The empty halls are a nice change from their usual chaos. Too bad the school isn't deserted like this all the time.

The smell of smoke hits me before I get through the library doors. Of course, he's here. I knew he would be. Where else would he be on a Saturday?

Jasper Whitlock. Just saying his name in my head makes my dick hard. Every time.

I may not be surprised that he's in Saturday detention, but that he's here _early_ surprises me a whole fucking lot. He's sitting back in his chair, combat boots propped up on the table, trench coat flowing around him. Sometimes he wears a black leather jacket and cowboy boots instead, but today he's chosen his grunge look.

I'm not complaining. There's something about his don't-give-a-fuck style that suits him perfectly.

His jeans are always tight, though, that's for sure - showing off his muscular legs. His strong, muscular legs. Fuck, he looks so strong - the opposite of myself, and that turns me on beyond belief. What I wouldn't give to just crawl up onto that sexy lap of his.

His head is back, eyes are closed as he takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in rings into the air above him. His longish dirty blonde curls are in their usual tangled disarray, looking rather, well… dirty. But I know his hair to be anything but. I sit behind him in advanced chemistry, you see – yes, he is in advanced chemistry and every other advanced class there is. I may or may not, on occasion, only when I'm sure no one else is looking - lean forward and breathe him in. I might reach out to barely touch the ends of his tangled hair, too.

I can tell you, that shit is soft, and smells like a cross between candy apples and vanilla. I kid you not, it's the god's honest truth. Sure the hint of smoke is laced in with his naturally delicious scent sometimes, but only when he's been out in the yard with his criminal friends, if one can call them _friends._

The question that haunts me, that I end up pondering every time I see Jasper and every time I think about him, which is all the fucking time – is how can someone so bad-ass be breath-takingly beautiful at the same time?

And that's just it... he takes my breath away.

I don't know what it is about him. I mean, he is hot as hell. That fact can't be disputed. But we don't have anything in common – hotness, included. We don't run in the same crowd, to say the least. I'm a geek. He's a crimmy, short for one of the criminals, though I don't think he's every actually broken the law. He hangs out with those who have or want to, which makes him one by default.

There are the rumors… numerous rumors about the terrible things Jasper Whitlock has done. Supposedly he was in jail for putting someone in the hospital, he was in juvy three or four times, and rehab. There's the practically urban legend about how bat-shit crazy Jasper is; that he'll do anything to anybody at any time. "Don't fuck with Jasper Whitlock," they all say, "cuz he's certifiable." That particular rumor is just plain ridiculous. I've only seen him violent once, and it was when he rather roughly stuffed a football player into a locker for picking on a freshman.

My personal favorite rumor is the one I fantasize about nightly, the one about him being gay and a legendary power top. Some say he's fucked more male students at Forks High than Jessica Stanley.

People believe what they want to; they only see what they want to see and hear what they choose to hear, but I know the truth. I see the truth about Jasper. I've seen how he feeds the stray cats that live behind the school. He drives his would-be sister to school and back home, every damned day. He picks up books when assholes trip geeks, causing geeks to drop those books all over the floor in the hall… my books. His hands are warm and unbelievably soft, causing a tingling sensation to spread across one's skin when dropped books are passed back to geeks, ever so gently placed in trembling hands… my hands.

I know there's something about him, radiating from that penetrating stare of his. There's something dangerous, but mostly deep, so fucking deep and powerful; a force just waiting to be discovered and nurtured.

By who? By me? I wish I could be the one to cherish Jasper Whitlock. I don't know how to, nor do I think he'd give me a chance.

He can have anyone. What the hell would he want with me?

Whatever it is about him, everything about him, draws me in, making me want him and him alone.

I awkwardly remove my backpack from my shoulder to hold in front of my crotch. I can't help but dip my head as I always do when faced with just about anybody. Ensuring he doesn't see the bruise that is my eye socket or the blood stain that is my eye, I attempt to hold my sunglasses in place while keeping my backpack down low in front my Jasper induced boner, never taking my eyes off him as I awkwardly maneuver across the room.

I never can avert my gaze, regardless of how hard I try. Especially not from his piercing stare once our eyes meet, which they have now that he's watching me watch him. Looking into my eyes, despite my dark glasses - he sees me, I know he does. It's as if he truly see _me_. Not the president of the math club or the awkward geek the jocks seem to despise. He see _me._ And he must know I see him, too.

He has to suspect, no… he must know beyond a shadow of a doubt of how badly I want him. He'd have to be blind and stupid to not see the way I look at him, and as badly as he tries to play the dumbass, I see through his charade.

He's smart, probably a genius. He's observant; I see the way he notices everything around him. He's kind. God… underneath his tough bravado, he's so kind and so good; he can't hide that from me, no matter how hard he tries.

Thankfully… mercifully… he looks away.

**Jpov**

Beautiful. Edward Masen is beautiful. I've never thought of a boy as beautiful before him, but I do him. Fuck, he is. And he's looking at me from behind his sunglasses, the way only he does, like he's taking me apart and then putting me back together again.

I can barely see his eyes through those damned dark lenses, his green as grass eyes - and I feel them on me, if that makes any sense.

What the fuck is up with his sudden shades, anyway? He never wears them, not until yesterday, atleast. And I don't like them one little bit.

Shit, what is it about that boy, with his copper crazy hair and stupid preppy button downs? Always over a crisp white undershirt. A fucking undershirt, every damned day! And all I want to do is see him in only that little undershirt, wearing nothing else, but my mouth wrapped around his cock.

Fuck!

He drives me crazy.

I want him so badly. Yes, I want Edward Masen in the worst way. And let's be honest, I can have - have had - every gay boy, half-gay boy, almost-gay boy, and maybe-gay boy in this school, along with a few straight boys, too. Hell, I've fucked half the football team in just under a year. But oh no, that's not good enough for me, because I wantEdward. I have a crush on him is more like it. A giant-ridiculous-mushy-gushy-girly crush on the one boy in this town whom I should stay as far away from as possible, simply because he affects me so. Edward affects me through and through. And that scares the shit outta me. I don't need any of that.

More importantly, Edward doesn't need any if this. Nobody does, but especially not him. I'm one fucked up cat, bred my entire life to be nothing but a derelict.

I know I could have him. The way he looks at me leaves no question in my mind as to if I could have that boy flat on his back or bent over the closest available surface asap. I could have Edward for one night, maybe two. Behind closed doors, I would rock his world and give him the courage to eventually come out. He would spend the rest of his life trying to find someone to make him feel the way my body in his did. I would leave him with no doubt that it is, indeed, boys he likes. Boys he needs and wants and fucking has to have.

But I would be his dirty little secret, just like with the others.

Don't get me wrong; I don't usually mind one little bit. I like to fuck and then be left the fuck alone. But not with him. Not with Edward. No, I wouldn't like watching him walk away, with a new spring in his step, mind you - but he would walk away from me like everyone else has since I was born into this fucked up world. Excluding Carlisle and Esme, so far; they haven't walked away just yet, despite my constant attempts to speed up the process, but it's only been eleven months. Give them time. They'll turn their backs on me; they'll walk away, just like everyone else.

So I do the walking, first... but there's something about Edward. If I fuck him I'll fall for him; I just know it. He would own me; I can feel it in my bones. I wouldn't be able to walk away from him first, last, or ever. I barely hold onto the broken pieces of myself enough to stay sane and not become the criminal I'm destined to become. I certainly can't share my tenuous control with another. With him.

He wouldn't want it anyway, once he sees me, really knows me. He may be a geek, but he's the king of the geeks. The way they look at him - it's as if he's a god or something. The way they look at me - they see the worthless piece if shit I am. Edward wouldn't risk their friendship to be with me, to truly be with me. I wouldn't want him to.

So I'll continue to stay away, to watch over him from afar, protecting him from the hell that is my life, the decay that is my soul. Protecting myself from escaping that hell, because what would I do without it? I don't know how to live like that.

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><p><strong>I hope to post more often, like allot more often. I will finish all my stories. My winter-ish stories will pick up when it's winter again, when I can even begin to think about Christmas or ice-skating. You'll hear from the Sometimes boys and these two again, very soon. <strong>

**I have two banners for this fic on my fb page… Jen Soulmateficwriter. Come see me… I'll be alone, dancing. You know it, baby.**


	2. Call My Name

**Thank you for alerting and favoriting this story, and for your reviews! Knowing you're out there reading what I've written and hearing from you are my greatest inspirations! **

**Hey sweet harritwifan, happy birthday again and again, lol.**

**Song inspiration - Don't You Forget About Me by Simple Minds and Boom Clap by Charli XCX.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. This is slash… two boys are in the process of falling madly in love. It's some beautiful shit. I don't see how you could disagree. But whatever. You've been warned.**

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><p>Ch. 2 - Call My Name<p>

Love's strange, so real in the dark.

Think of the tender things that we were working on.

Slow change may pull us apart,

when the light gets into your heart, baby.

**Epov**

I look away, he looks away. I look back, he looks back. Over and over. It's making me dizzy.

Until… suddenly, I feel the force of a table hit me across my thighs. I guess that's what I get for paying attention to everything Jasper Whitlock instead of where I'm going. My backpack hits the ground and my sunglasses go flying. I'm helpless to move, to retrieve either - because my eyes remain glued to Jasper, to his eyes looking back at me, but I no longer have sunglasses hiding my fucked-up face. I can only hope he's far enough away to not see, but he's staring - and I swear to God, he's scrutinizing.

I jerk and turn partially away from his inquisitive stare, continuing to glance side-ways at him, because I simply can't keep from it. I kind-of like the way he's blatantly studying me. I know there's no possible way he can see my black eye from this angle. It's just me looking back at him, so I decide to bask in the warmth of his gaze. I feel his eyes on me almost as if he's touching me and it's making my skin crawl, in a good way. But it isn't helping the little problem in my pants - or should I say big problem… yeah, it's a pretty damned big problem, if I do say so myself. Jasper's sinful eyes move down my body, taking notice of my not so little problem before making a slow ascent back up to my face, again. The fire in his eyes steals my breath because I see want and need burning there. Want and need that rivals my own.

"Mornin', Masen. Is that a calculator in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

His cocky greeting accompanied by his signature combination smirk with a wink contradicts the huskiness in his voice.

_Fuck me._

My problem twitches in my jeans. It has to be noticeable because it more like jumps with excitement at Jasper's words, and at the sexy tenor of which they tumbled from his fuckable mouth, and the sigh he lets out just after licking his lips. God damned! I can't get his words or his voice out of my head, my big one or my not-so-little one.

So he's flirting with me now… blatantly flirting? He does allot of staring, but I never can be sure what he's thinking. He usually doesn't say anything to me, and now he's flirting? I'm pretty sure this is most definitely what one could interpret as flirting!

Jasper grunts, a sound that contradicts the moment we've just been sharing – or atleast I think it was a _moment_… it sure as hell felt like a _moment_ to me, but I can't be sure. He could've just been fucking with me, but he doesn't usually just fuck with people. Therefore, I know it was a_ moment_, it had to have been, but now I remember his grunt. Add in the current look of disdain he wears directed just past my left shoulder and I'm pulled from my thoughts. I've been standing here staring at him for who knows how long, but now someone is standing behind me.

"Out of my way, geek," I hear from directly behind me.

Shit, just what I fucking need… McCarty.

Before I can get the fuck out of his way like I've learned to do, he pushes me, laying me out on the table so that he can pass by. Rosalie Hale sashays along behind him, nose up in the air as usual, impeccably dressed in what I imagine to be designer clothes, every long blond hair on her obnoxious head perfectly in its place. She's such a stuck up bitch. The perfect girl for Emmett.

Just as I've about got my bearings, shy Bella Swan scurries past, dressed in her usual oversized black clothes, her head down, long scraggly brown hair hanging in her face. Poor girl has even less self-confidence than me. Man, that's one fucked up chic.

I stand up and gather what little dignity I have left, making my way to the table in the back, as far away from everyone as I can get. Jasper catches my eye, again. I've studied him enough to know the expression he wears is that of danger when he glances Emmett's way. Conflicting emotions war for dominance over Jasper's face… concern and tenderness when he looks at me, hate and pure fury when he looks at the back of Emmett's head, who has unwisely chosen to sit at the table directly in front of Jasper. Emmett has balls, if nothing else. Though he has allot else, considering he's the captain of the football team and he dates the most popular girl in school, though I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole. But I wouldn't touch any female with any length pole, especially not my own.

I hope his popular status and top of the line arm candy are worth it, considering he traded his friendship with me for all of that.

Jasper meets my gaze and his expression immediately softens. He narrows his eyes while looking at me, but in a good way, I think. He's blatantly staring at me, as a matter of fact, as if he's trying to tell me something. And then the spell is broken when his eyes dart toward Emmett, again. Jasper's posture visibly stiffens; I swear I see him white knuckling the edge of the table, like he has to hold himself back with great effort.

It's all just too confusing, so I try to ignore him and everyone else. I begin taking my books out of my backpack, but I can't be so lucky as to just be left the fuck alone. Why can't Emmett just leave me the fuck alone? I can't believe he's the same boy who was my best friend for all those years.

"What the fuck are you doing in here, Masen?" _He used to call me Eddie_. "Are you lost? Aren't you supposed to be at a Mathletes competition or some other nerd shit like that?" He glances at Rosie for approval. She giggles and bats her eyelashes at him in return. It's some fucked up shit, if you ask me.

I don't reply, or acknowledge his latest jibe. I never do. Instead, I try to concentrate on my book. It's pure coincidence I'm reading Oliver twist, the book Jasper carries a worn copy of everywhere he goes. Another thing he thinks he hides from everyone. But he doesn't hide it from me.

There's no use trying to get along with Emmett. I gave up on that a long time ago, in middle school, when he became the jock and I remained the geek.

"Masen, I'm talking to you…"

"Leave him the fuck alone!"

All eyes snap toward Jasper. We're used to hearing Emmett pick on people, particularly me - but no one, including myself, is used to hearing Jasper shout, or so much as speak most of the time.

"You talking to me, Whitlock?" Emmett stands and puffs out his chest, as if he'll stand up to Jasper if it comes to that. Everyone knows Emmett is all bark and no bite. And everyone, including Emmett, is afraid to test the rumors about Jasper.

Jasper stands suddenly, knocking his chair across the room – Ugh… like I said, he's so damned strong. And did I mention sexy?

Distracted by him again, I don't immediately catch on that he's looking at me, but no longer in a good way. He looks horrified and pissed, with his mouth hanging open, because he sees. Shit, he sees the fucked up mess that is my eye. Why didn't I put my sunglasses back on?!

Before I register what he's doing, that he's coming my way - he's kneeling beside me, ghosting his fingers across my cheek, just under my eye and the bruise I still feel there. It's all in slow motion, like the world around me has been put on mute, yet I see it and feel it with perfect clarity.

Nobody has ever looked at me the way he is right now. Nobody, not even him. And now Jasper Whitlock is touching my face, tenderly. I can see the concern in his eyes, the sad frown on his perfect mouth.

"Who did this to you, Edward? Tell me who?" His voice sounds gravelly and full of emotion, and I can't find my own voice to answer.

For some reason I choose this moment to glance toward Emmett who is looking at me all pissed and horrified-like , too. I immediately wish I hadn't because I realize I've accidently insinuated he had something to do with the current state of my face. That's all it takes, and Jasper is leaping over the table as if he's in the mother-fucking ballet or some shit. He gets right up in Emmett's face, grabbing and twisting much bigger Em's jersey, somehow lifting him up off the ground, if that's even fucking possible. Venom drips from every syllable of every word as Jasper hisses in a very scared looking Em's face.

Why I'm referring to him as Em again, is beyond me. It's only ever going to be Emmett or McCarty. It's not like he'll ever want to be referred to as Em by me, and considering all the shit he's put me through, I think I'll just call him asshole for the rest of my life.

"What the fuck, McCarty? You better not have had anything to do with whatever it is that happened to our boy's face!"

Everything is in slow motion. Jasper continues to hold Emmett up off the ground, now while looking at me, like some kind of super hero. And then he's looking back, up at Emmett. He's seething and fucking scary as he continues to question Emmett with a voice that speaks of contained anger and disgust boiling just under the surface. I want to tell him that Emmett had nothing to do with my face, but I can't speak because I'm paralyzed and shocked. And rock fucking hard, again.

"No, you didn't do that to Edward's face… did you? We both know you'd never really hurt him, well not physically, atleast. So what the fuck happened? Where were you? How could've let anything like that happen to him."

What the hell is Jasper talking about, how could Emmett have let anything happen to me? I mean, nobody fucks with me except Emmett, come to think of it; and some of the other guys get it worse from some of the other jocks, but I'm having a hard time computing what I think Jasper is insinuating.

"I don't fucking know!" Emmett yells, defensively. He actually has the nerve to push Jasper off, almost knocking Rosalie down in the process seeing as she's about to attack Jasper, coming to Emmett's defense and all. I didn't know she had it in her; she looks like a possessed mad woman. And then there's Bella, pulling on Rosalie like she's just grown a back bone. What the fuck has gotten into everyone today? Are we in the Twilight-fucking-zone, or what!

Suddenly, Emmett backs away with his hands in the air, yelling with his booming captain-of-the-football-team voice. "Just calm the fuck down, people!" He looks over at me with… is that concern in his eyes? It sure as hell looks like concern, but my mind can't catch up since he's been such an asshole to me for so long. He starts pacing around the room, looking like he's about to hit something, or somebody. But he doesn't seem pissed at Jasper for getting in his face. No, instead he keeps looking at my face with some sort of a tortured expression on his, opening his mouth as if he wants to say something. He never says anything nice, but right now it really looks like he wants to; his signature asshole smirk is missing, too. I swear I recognize the sweet and open expression that always greeted me when we were kids, but I can't be sure. I must be hallucinating. And then he finally speaks.

"Edward? Who did that to your face, bro?"

Suddenly, I grow a pair - a huge pair to match my huge dick, because I'm sick of everyone and everything and he sure the fuck is not my _bro_. He hasn't been my brosince he deserted my sorry ass for the football team and cheerleaders, for the cool table in the lunch room and high fives all up and down the motherfucking hall all-day every-day like some sort of high-five spaz. I didn't know it was possible to high five as much as he does, seriously! I think he may have some rare condition that causes him to high-five anyone he deems worthy every fucking time he sees them. Every time! It's weird and I'd like to think I'm not the only person who thinks so.

I yell at him; yes, I do. In a relatively loud voice like I'm pissed and like I mean it. "What the fuck do you care? You haven't cared about me since you became all cool and shit, so fuck off McCarty, not Em or Emmett… you'll forever be McCarty or asshole to me. And don't you forget, it's by your choice that my face and everything else about me is no longer your concern!"

_Damn!_

Emmett is temporarily in shock, stepping back as if I've hit him or something. I've never talked to him like that, him or anyone besides Mr. Prick of a Shop Teacher, just yesterday. What the hell has gotten into me, anyway? I don't fucking know, but I like it. This shit called aggression and assertiveness feels kind-of good.

But then, for some reason, Jasper grabs Emmett, again. He holds him down on a table, yelling about why he let this happen to me and where the fuck was he. Some of what he says is inaudible. Emmett is yelling back, "Where the fuck were you, Loverboy? You're his god-damned shadow all the fucking time! Where were you?"

I hear someone else screaming, so loud that both Emmett and Jasper stop their shouting at each other and look… at me. Because I realize too late that it's me screaming at them that they are both fucking insane.

Now I've got Jasper and Emmett looking at me, questioning me. Add Rosalie and Bella to the mix, staring like they might actually give a shit, and I wish I could crawl under the table and hide from them all. Maybe I'll do just that.

Before I can start to actually get under the table, because I truly intend to, Mr. Malina clears his throat, startling us all. Who knows how long he's been leaning against the librarians desk - how much of this scene he has witnessed?

"Jasper. May I have a word with you, please?"

Jasper begrudgingly lets Emmet off the table he still has him tackled against, and follows Mr. Malina to the corner of the room. Though he attempts to talk in hushed tones, I hear every word he says to Jasper. He tells him to control himself. That he'll have to give Jasper a real Saturday detention if he physically accosts Emmett, again.

As they return to the group, he adds with a wink, "You don't want to spend another day locked in the broom closet, now do you?"

What the hell? Another day in the broom closet? Visions of what Jasper and I might do if we were locked in a closet together for a day temporarily cloud my vision. _Hello, again, problem in my pants. It's been a while… like what? Five minutes or maybe six? Enough already!_

Jasper sort of chuckles at Mr. Malina's broom closet comment as he takes his seat, distracting me from my vivid imagination for the moment, thank god. Bringing me back to the moment from wondering what the story is with the broom closet and Jasper and if he was locked in there by accident or as punishment. I can't ponder my broom closet questions and visions any longer, because he's looking at me again, questioning with his expressive, beautiful eyes. I bury my face in my arms, slumping on the table to hide from him and his questions and concerns and the heat under the surface of his stare, if just for a little while. It's barely 9am for fuck's sake, and I'm absolutely exhausted.

Thankfully, Mr. Malina begins what I imagine to be his opening detention speech. His assertive yet friendly voice momentarily calms my nerves and gives me something to concentrate on besides the sexy bad-boy blond and all the other fucked up shit that has just transpired, for a moment or two, atleast. "All right... so you've all decided to spend your Saturday with me? I see a couple new faces in here... Rosalie? Edward? I know you're all good kids - that goes for my regulars, too." He pauses to give a pointed look at Jasper and Bella, with a small smile he doesn't conceal well. "So... here's how your Saturday will play out. You need to spend the next eight hours studying or reading. No Ipods or Iphones or Ipads, or any other Idevices or technology... you know what I mean. No sleeping. I'll be in my office so conveniently directly across the hall. I'll be peaking my head in to check on you periodically. Ask before you use the restroom. I will tell you when it's time to eat lunch. Other than that, if I don't hear you, I'll assume you're doing what you're supposed to be doing. You may sit anywhere in the library you wish, and use the books, just put them back. In the correct place… Emmett. Any questions?"

Noone does, ofcourse – so he disappears out of the library, across the hall to where his office is conveniently located. Maybe that's why he gets stuck with Saturday detention duty? I don't fucking know. I do know that my arms are feeling cozy and I'm so fucking tired, I think I might actually doze off. He said no sleeping, but I don't think I can help it or particularly give a shit, right now. I think about what a rebel I've become as things go fuzzy and the darkness seeps in.

_Jasper pov_

Things have settled down, thank god. We're a half hour in. We won't see Mr. Malina again until lunch. I won't even think about the damned near friend he's become since my sorry ass landed in this boring town. Boring and safe, lulling me into what I know must be a false sense of security. Too many people are getting too close. I know I have to do something about that damned soon, to protect myself. Just a little longer, though I've been telling myself that for months since I've felt myself caring for Alice, and dare I say Carlisle and Esme, too. Maybe even Bella a little bit, and now a teacher? And Edward-fucking-Masen? I'm so screwed.

Everyone is quiet and studying, or doodling. Of course, leave it to McCarty to sit and doodle instead of utilizing his time. What an idiot. Except for Edward, because he still has his head down on his table. Fuck!

For the life of me, I can't figure out what has gotten into me. First, with the blatant flirting with Edward, and then coming so close to pummeling McCarty over what I know he had nothing to do with. That's what pisses me off the most, because I see how twisted Emmett is. He picks on Edward just enough for no one to suspect that he cares, while simultaneously watching over him like a hawk. Watching out for him. I don't know what the story is between them, but it's a helluva lot deeper that a jock bullying a geek, I can tell you that much.

Seeing Edward like that… knowing that someone must've hit him, that someone has hurt him - just FUCK! It makes my blood boil. It makes me want to open myself up just a little, enough to keep him close so that I can protect him from anyone ever hurting him, again.

_Snap the fuck out of it Whitlock_!

That's bullshit and you know it. You can't let him in. You don't dare. And just the fact that you're momentarily entertaining such fantastical nonsense, tells you that you need to get the fuck out of dodge as soon as possible. That boy short circuits your brain, your common sense that's kept you going in this fucked up world. And he warms your heart. And the fact that you're now referring to yourself in second-person, tells you… fuck, me - that it is time to go.

But where in the hell do I have to go?

As soon as the thought takes form, I'm on my feet and knocking on Mr. Malina's office door. He's not surprised to see me, thinking I'm done with my usual charade and here to grade papers for him, despite the other students in detention today. But that's not what I want. What I need is a place to go for a few minutes, or hours, maybe for the rest of this day, until Edward Masen is far enough away that I can't see him, and smell him. That my need for him isn't so fucking overwhelming.

I need solitude and confinement. Which means I can't go home where my family is.

_Home_? Fucking _family_? Did I really just refer to my current residence – number fifteen in so many years - as my _home_? To the people who take money from the state to let me live with them as my _family_?!

Oh, no. Oh, fuck no! No, no, no, no, no. That can't be. It just can't. I won't allow it.

Let me rephrase… I can't go to the house I'm temporarily allowed to crash at where my foster family lives - always so nice and attentive. Where Alice will insist on snuggling on the couch and watching movies all day, eating popcorn – fuck, I love popcorn - endearing me to her even more than the little imp already has. Where Carlisle and Esme will be patiently waiting, with their concerned faces and loving voices, coaxing me to let them in. But to what end? To allow them to fool me like the others, only to eventually turn me out like an unwanted stray dog?

Fuck no. I think I'll pass. Been there, done that, and I'm not falling for it, this time.

"So Mr. Malina, about that broom closet..."

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><p><strong>What do you think so far?<strong>

**I have a tumblr for this story at walkonby -dot- tumbler -dot- com**


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